


another day, another destiny

by DeathMeetsLife



Series: The Red String That Binds [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: 686 fix-it, Big Bang Challenge, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fix-It, IRBB, so i heard you like angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 04:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10298078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathMeetsLife/pseuds/DeathMeetsLife
Summary: When Rukia realizes that both of her twins cannot survive in the same world, she and Ichigo make a decision that will save their children but will ultimately tear their family apart.-“His lips met hers, and Rukia knew what it was that had always been between them. More, she thought. It had always been more.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I'd like to extend my thanks to my artist partner in this Big Bang, Lai, who has done a tremendous job and _made me a freaking trailer_ for this fic! I literally can't stop watching it, so y'all should 100% watch it a million times, too: http://yrpnz.tumblr.com/post/158398130956/irbb-2017-an-animatic-trailer-to-skyes-fic
> 
> I'd also like to thank those that put together this IchiRuki Big Bang! So many wonderful works have come out of it, and I'm so proud and happy to be a part of this community. 
> 
> Many apologies for the fact that y'all are subjected to my first attempt at smut. Please forgive me. 
> 
> Without further ado, please feast your eyes on my attempts at fixing what Kubo has wrought upon this beautiful ship.

“So it’s only temporary, then?” Ichigo asked, looking over the rubble and ruins of Soul Society. The world no longer shook with destabilization, and the sun that peaked through the dust still hanging in the air gave an unearthly glow to everything it touched.

“Well,” Rukia responded, plopping down gracelessly next to him. “Not like what you’re probably thinking. Captain Ukitake was a vessel in some part for the Soul King, and, as such, has what remains of the Soul King’s power. But it’ll probably take thousands of years before that power runs out, and, by that time, hopefully the balance will have returned and a new Soul King created.” She ran calloused fingers over her aching neck.

“And Ukitake?”

She choked down the dust and grief that blocked her throat. “He’s gone,” she replied simply. She felt a warmth envelop her aching hand, and looked down to see Ichigo’s fingers intertwine with hers.

“I’m sorry,” his sincerity washed over her, and she smiled a little. “I know how important he was to you.”

She leaned into his side and relished his heat. “Fool.”

* * *

 

“They’re still there, you know.”

“Hm?”

They sat sprawled in the shade, water in hand, as the Seireitei cleanup continued around them. The going was slow, what with so many Shinigami hospitalized and healing (with so many _dead_ ), but Ichigo had noticed a marked difference that day from the weeks before. Rukia dipped her fingertips into her cup before flicking the water in his face. “Stupid. Your powers. You wouldn’t still be here if he’d ripped them all away.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess I knew that. It doesn’t feel like it did… before.” When his power disappeared for the longest seventeen months of his life, when he felt cold and empty and heavy all at once.

She felt the words heavy in her own heart, but smirked through them. “A little time and training, and we’ll get you back out there making bad decisions in no-time.” He jostled her with an elbow, and she laughed. He grinned back at her.

“No-time, huh?” he swept a hand through his hair and leaned back. Rukia resisted the urge to watch a bead of sweat make its way down the long sweep of his neck.

She failed.

She leaned closer and opened her mouth to give another jibe, but the rough shout of her childhood friend interrupted her.

“Hey, lovebirds! If you’ve got time to be flirtin’, you’ve got time to be workin’!”

Ichigo’s face turned about three shades redder than Renji’s hair, and he leapt to his feet to argue with the older man. Rukia watched them bicker fondly, the glaring sun beating down the two men in the rubble. Ichigo turned back to her, and, suddenly, the sun didn’t seem nearly as bright as his smile. A heat not related to the climate grew in her chest. She pushed down the feeling and gulped down the rest of her water.

* * *

“Come on, lazy bones. Again!”

Ichigo jumped back to his feet, resisting the urge to groan along with his sore muscles. “We’ve been at this since damn near dawn, Rukia! That’s hardly what I’d call ‘lazy!’ Woah!” He ducked under Sode no Shirayuki as the sword sliced through the air where his neck had been a moment before. “Hey!”

“Sword up, rookie!” Rukia scolded, but her words were undercut by the gleeful smile on her face. “Again!”

Ichigo grumbled and focused all of his reiatsu on the swords in his hands. His broken zanpakuto hung heavily in his hands, sad the look at and even sadder to try to fight with.

“Your zanpakuto are a part of your soul, Ichigo,” Rukia lectured. “If they are broken, and you are still here? That means you can heal them.” Ichigo growled.

“You keep saying that, but it doesn’t appear to be working!” He yelped and dodged away from another strike.

“You’re a doctor’s boy, aren’t you?” She called and attacked again, relentless. “So heal!”

His frustration bubbled under his skin, but Ichigo still focused on pouring his power into his swords. He grit his teeth and avoided another well-placed jab. “You are a terrible teacher!”

“I’m the worst,” she agreed, “and you’re still getting schooled!”

Ichigo did groan that time. “That was so bad.”

“Well, there’s only one way to shut me up, isn’t there?” Immediately, his mind flashed to a very _different_ way than what she was so obviously meaning, but he shook off the thought. Rukia danced forward, Sode no Shirayuki flashing in silver white in front of Ichigo. She flowed faster and faster, and Ichigo knew he could not keep dodging all afternoon. Even as he made the decision to take action, Rukia shunpoed forward to slap the flat of her blade against his shoulder. He winced at the sting.

“Next time, it’s her edge. Come on, fool! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something!”

“Feel _sorry_ for myself?” He yelled in indignation. Ichigo brought his swords up to deflect he next strike on what was left of his zanpakuto. Rukia smiled.

“What, am I wrong? You’ve come back from worse. You really think there’s another reason your swords haven’t healed?” She kicked him square in the stomach and huffed at the breathless grunt that followed. “Running away to lick your wounds and feel sorry for yourself. Who do you think I am to let you do that, fool?!” She knew she was shouting, but it was worth it to see his look of growing determination. “What does that say about me that I’m still here fighting against _your_ self-pity and cowardice?!” She swung her blade true, slashing toward Ichigo’s prone form until she wasn’t.

She smiled as the sudden burst of reiatsu tossed her into the air, twisting gracefully to land upright and watched the man pull himself to his feet. As Ichigo brushed off his shihakusho, Rukia settled back and crossed her arms, rightfully smug. “There you are, Ichigo.”

Zangetsu was once again whole, the afternoon sunlight glinting off of the healed twin blades. Then Ichigo smiled, and Rukia felt it warm her from her toes all the way to her chest. “You’ve always had more confidence in me than I deserve, midget.”

She snorted inelegantly. “Looks like it’s a good thing that I’m a creature of habit, then.” She punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the only fool here.”

“Yeah, it seems that way.” Ichigo hefted the swords and spun them easily. “Are you ready for some real training?”

“I’ve been ready since dawn, idiot. Blades up!”

The sound of metal meeting metal echoed off the hilltop, harmonizing with the joyful laughter that accompanied it.

The cleanup – and Ichigo’s retraining – lasted for weeks, and, by the time reconstruction had started, almost all of the former ryoka had returned to the Living World. The arrancar had long since returned to Hueco Mundo, presumably to clean up the mess the Wandenreich had left in their sandy little corner of the universe. When Ichigo finally made his way to the senkaimon, dragging his heels and grumbling the whole way, it was to shut up his yammering father about missed schoolwork.

“I guess I gotta graduate sometime,” he shrugged. He turned back to the small shinigami who had come to see him off. “I’ll be back when I can, but you better come visit soon, yeah?” His callused fingers brushed against hers, and she unconsciously laced them together. Even if their separation was temporary, Rukia couldn’t help but remember the last time they had parted ways.

She wasn’t ready for him to leave again. He tightened his grip; Ichigo felt the same.

“You just focus on school. Your grades are bad enough as it is,” she teased lightly. A grin stretched his lips.

“You know that’s not true.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re a bit smarter than you look,” Rukia quipped. She smiled up at her dearest friend, but she knew it was shaky at best. She had already come to the decision days ago when they had fallen next to each other on the hilltop, panting out laughter as they tried to catch their breaths, and her heart had thumped painfully in her breast, and she had thought, _oh, that’s what that is_. “Go on. Experience life.”

A puzzled expression clouded Ichigo’s face, but, before he could speak, she pushed him through the gate. The doors closed after him with an air of finality, but she still felt his warmth on her fingers.

* * *

Ichigo scrubbed a hand through his hair in irritation. His calculus homework laid half-finished on his desk, and his history textbooks sat untouched next to his notes. He had forgotten how daunting it was to play catch-up; while substitute shinigami duties took time, sure, it was easy enough to stay ahead in his classes when the monsters where in his own backyard. His extended ventures into Soul Society – or Hueco Mundo, for that matter – were another case entirely.

A soft knock on his door called his attention, and he managed to huff out a “come in” as he pushed away from his assignments.

“Ichi-nii, dinner’s ready,” Karin announced as she stepped into the room. “Yuzu wanted to try something new, and, frankly, it looks pretty damn scary, so just pretend you like it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Ichigo placated with a sigh. He tossed his pencil back onto his desk and moved to stand, stretching his back and groaning. “I don’t think it’s possible for Yuzu to cook a bad meal.”

“She got the recipe from Inoue-san.”

A preemptive gag rolled up his throat, but he choked it down. He coughed into his hand. “Maybe I can pretend I’m already sick before the food does it for me.”

“Well,” Karin drawled, turning back to the hallway with a wave of her hand, “it’s a good thing we live in a clinic, then, isn’t it?”

“This is cruel and unjustified,” he grumbled and made his way after her.

As they tromped down the stairs, Karin cut her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Relax, just pretend to eat enough and then we can sneak out. Maybe we can grab something at the convenience store.”

“There you are!” His other sister chirped from the dining table, setting a pot with god-knew-what in the center. “Wash up, you two, so we can eat already.”

“And what have you made for you father tonight, my darling daughter?” Isshin gushed from his seat. Yuzu preened under his praise and lifted the pot lid with a flourish.

“Wasabi hotpot with chocolate, squid, nato, and sour gummy worms!”

Ichigo’s gag reflex came back before the acrid smell of the dish had even reached him. Next to him, Karin’s skin had taken on a more-than-slightly green hue. “Maybe next time, Yuzu,” he managed, somehow, “as… delicious as this smells, I promised to meet up with Chad to study.” He walked hurriedly to the entry, jammed his feet into his shoes, and flung open the door to sweet, fresh outdoor air. He heard Karin make her own excuses before she was right behind him.

“If you leave me to that, no one will ever find your body,” she threatened him. “Forget the corner store. I need something more than cup ramen to wipe that from my memory in its entirety.”

“Hear, hear,” Ichigo agreed. “Speaking of noodles though…”

“Yeah, okay. Broth might be the best thing right now, in any case,” Karin muttered. “Hey, can you come to my soccer game next week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Karin,” Ichigo promised with a small smile. Her mouth quirked up in imitation. While Ichigo loved both of his sisters equally and dearly, he had always felt like he and Karin operated on the same wavelength. “Sorry I haven’t been to many lately.”

She waved it off. “Nah, it’s okay,” she continued glibly. “Honestly, the only good thing about that year and a half you were here was that you were able to come to all the games. But I’d rather have you happy and missing my games than be a depressed, fatalistic lump that always sat in the stands, so there’s that.”

Ichigo almost tripped at her blunt words. “Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you?” he grumbled sarcastically. He completely rescinded the idea that he and Karin got along better. Yuzu was definitely the better twin, now.

“Just did, loser,” she retorted and stuck out her tongue.

“When did you grow up to be so mean?”

“Oh, look, there’s the noodle stand.”

“We are _not_ done with this conversation!” Ichigo stomped after his sister, who had run ahead to the roadside eatery. He took the stool next to hers with a scowl. “One shoyu, one miso,” he told the chef, who nodded with a smile.

“So, when are you going back?” Karin prodded him in the side with her chopsticks. “Remember: happy Ichi-nii, good! Depressed Ichi-nii, sad sack.”

He swiped the chopsticks from her hand and deposited them on the counter. When she reached for them again, he whacked her hand with his own. “You can have them back when you can prove that you’ll be responsible with them.”

Karin rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question, dummy.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a shrug.

She hummed in response, then again in surprise when her ramen was placed in front of her. “And when’s Rukia-nee coming back?”

Ichigo let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Thank you,” he muttered to the chef and took his dinner. Karin took her chance to steal back her utensils.

Karin examined him. “Hm.”

“What?”

“Maybe that’s something you should be trying to figure out,” she dismissed him. “Itadakimasu.”

“Itadakimasu,” he echoed. He swirled his chopsticks in his soup and thought of the stack of college brochures his father had left on his desk.

* * *

“Vice Captain? Vice Captain Kuchiki?”

“Hm?” Rukia looked up at the man in front of her, who seemed to be offering up what looked like yet another pile of paperwork. “Oh, yes. Set them there. Thank you.”

“Requisition reports, ma’am, and records on the rebuilding efforts.” She nodded, and the shinigami left. She glanced at the reports before adding them to her ever-growing stack. She returned her gaze out the window with a heavy sigh.

How did Ukitake do it? Logically Rukia knew that it largely due to the cooperative efforts of the seated officers, but there were still quite a few things that only he, as captain, could see to. As Acting Captain of the Thirteenth, Rukia now had those duties as well as he own Vice Captain work.

To top it off, reconstruction reported seemed to be a special sort of unending hell, tormenting her with the same words and same numbers and same papercuts, but she still managed to try and balance the sworn duties of her division with the wider rebuilding efforts of the Seireitei.

Byakuya had urged her time and again to fill the position of captain, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to do so, not so soon after the war. Ukitake’s seat would remain his.

Her moment of silence was broken once again by the sound of a clearing throat. She looked up, caught sight of the Captain Commander and promptly blushed at the state of the office. True to form, however, Kyoraku dismissed her embarrassed, hurried apologies and mountains of paperwork with a wave of his hand.

“Never mind that. Well, not entirely, but you can put it out of your head while we chat. May I?” He gestured to the empty chair and sat before receiving a response. A moment later, a member of her division entered with a teapot, bowed, and scurried away. Kyoraku produced a pair of cups from seemingly nowhere with a smile. “Juushiro and I, as you know very well, had tea together almost every day. I know I may not be the company you desire, but I find myself wanting for tea companions, Rukia-chan, and you seem to be wanting for a distraction. Am I wrong?”

Rukia smiled and took the teapot to fill the cups. “Not at all, sir.”

“Good, good.” He inhaled the pleasant aroma of the tea, and his sigh was an odd mix of pleasure and melancholy. Rukia supposed it would be most apt to think of it as “nostalgic.” He took a small sip. “Tea was more Juushiro’s drink of choice, actually. I much prefer sake, but Nanao-chan is trying very hard to curb that habit.”

“Well, everything in moderation, sir,” Rukia held back a laugh at his put-upon pout.

“If you say so,” he relented. “And if that’s true, I think then you need to follow some of your own advice, Rukia-chan.”

Rukia pulled the cup away from her lips. “Pardon?”

He lowered his hands to his lap, and his ever-present smile turned sad. “As his friend, I more than appreciate what you are doing to honor Juushiro’s memory. However, as his Commander – and, indeed, yours as well – I am concerned that by leaving his seat vacant that you are drowning in more work than you know what to do with.” He cast an exemplary glance around the room. One of the stacks fell over on the desk and narrowly missed the teapot.

Rukia straightened her back. As tired as she was, this was not a subject she took lightly, and she lifted her chin to meet his eyes steadily. “I understand, sir. But, in all honesty, neither I nor anyone else in this division can imagine anyone other than Captain Ukitake wearing that white coat. I don’t want what he did to be forgotten so easily, to merely be recorded and then left to the gather dust in the archives.”

“You don’t sleep, Rukia-chan.” She turned away from his fond expression, suddenly conscious of the dark circles under her eyes. “You’re too busy working to eat, sometimes.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t need much of either.”

“You may not mind, but Juushiro would have.” She looked up sharply. Her fingers gripped the sides of her teacup harder. “He cared very much for you, my dear. I think, when you want to honor his memory, you need to consider his feelings, as well.”

She grudgingly relaxed at his words, as she knew them to be true; even in the midst of a fever, Captain Ukitake had always been insistent that she would not be overworked. In the time before she really began to bond with her brother, Ukitake had seemed to regard her as part of his own family, and he had always treated her as such. “What would you have me do?” Rukia asked softly. “I won’t take his seat.” _And I don’t want anyone else to, either._ “I know that it seems overly selfish in light of current events, but the Thirteenth is his division.”

“Then don’t take the seat. Just the duties. The Third Seat can take over your old Vice Captain responsibilities, and so on.” He waved his hand in a motion that translated to be something like “etcetera” and drained his cup, but his tone made it clear that it was an order. “Thank you for this distraction, Rukia-chan, as well as the tea. You’ll find distractions to be one of the only things keeping us captains sane,” he said with a wink. He stood, and Rukia followed suit. “I expect you at the next Captains’ Meeting.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave a respectful bow. Kyoraku smiled and exited the office with a casual nod. Once she heard his footsteps fade down the hallway, she released a weary breath and turned back to the mountain of documents on her desk. “Distractions, huh? I guess that’s what I was doing all along.” She shook her head. “Yamaguchi?” she called out, hoping her aide was within hearing distance.

“Yes, ma’am!” the young woman replied, tripping up to the doorway. Rukia smiled – she was fresh out of the academy and still eager to please.

“Please find Sentaro and direct him to my office.”

She nodded hastily, then made some sort of jerky bow, then tried a sort-of salute. “Yes, ma’am!” Rukia bit her lip to keep from laughing as the girl scurried away.

Sitting back at the desk, she looked out the window once more and sipped on her now-lukewarm tea. It was time for some re-structuring; surely that would be busy enough to keep her mind from wandering to a certain pair of warm amber eyes.

* * *

Ichigo leaned back against the railing and poke the straw into his juice box. The January sky was grey above him, but he found that he still enjoyed the rooftop more than the loud, crowded classroom during lunch. It certainly didn’t help that his classmates knew that he was different – it was unusual enough that he had missed as much school as he had and been allowed to try for graduation, but Ichigo also knew that they felt it on a subconscious level. The air moved differently around Ichigo and his friends, and some primal part of the human brain recognized it. So instead of subjecting himself to his classmates’ stares and all too curious – and probing – questions, Ichigo retreated to the relative peace that the roof provided.

“Relative,” of course, being the operative term.

Although Orihime and Tatsuki had easily reintegrated into the girls’ social circles, Chad and Ishida joined him in the winter chill. Mizuiro and Keigo tagged along more often than not, and they provided the majority of the conversation and entertainment during the midday period.

“You know, they’re think about bringing that one game show over from Korea, you know, the one with all those literary questions.”

“I don’t know why, though. Unless they throw in some sort of gag it isn’t going to last long at all! Every time I see a clip online I feel like I’m sitting in class.”

“I don’t know how you’d know what that felt like, considering all you do in class is sleep.”

“Ichigo’d be good at it, though.”

“Hm,” he mumbled and looked into the schoolyard. “I’ll pass.” Ichigo blocked out the rest of their conversation, instead choosing to watch an airplane carve a white trail across the sky. The wind picked up, but Ichigo only felt it for a moment before his friend’s large frame shielded him from the brunt of it. Chad slouched against the rail, as well.

“Almost done,” he spoke softly. “You ready to leave?”

Ichigo knew, despite the ticking clock, that Chad was not referring to the end of their lunch hour. “Yeah. It all feels pretty rote at this point.”

Chad hummed. “Any ideas?”

“Not a single one,” Ichigo replied, sucking a little too viciously on his juice straw.

“No university? That’s a waste.”

“I guess,” he grumbled. “The old man certainly wants me to go. I’ll get there eventually, it just doesn’t…” he scowled, chewing on the inside of his lip.

“Feel right?” Ishida joined them, abandoning the other pair to their inane conversation. “Where would you rather be?”

Chad, as ever, moved straight to the point. “Do you miss Soul Society, Ichigo?”

“Not particularly,” Ichigo bit out, not entirely convincingly. His two friends exchanged a look.

“Do you miss Rukia?” Ishida prodded instead. Ichigo sighed – the inquisition was his reason to escape to the roof in the first place. His eyes dropped to the group of girls sitting under the trees with their lunchboxes, and he imagined her voice mingling along with the chatter below. Despite his friend and his cousin bracketing him against the rail, he found the space next to him cold and empty.

“Every damn day,” he growled and finished off his juice box.

* * *

Graduation found Rukia standing with Isshin and the girls, cheering on her friends who had miraculously enough, against all odds, survived high school. As they received their diplomas one by one, she felt pride bloom in her heart; even through fending off hollows and mounting expeditions in other worlds, these humans had flourished, almost in spite of their unorthodox extracurricular activities. Her eyes were drawn, almost magnetically, to Ichigo, and her mind turned immediately to a boy, unwaveringly planted in the path of a hollow, who had shoved her sword through his chest. That boy had risen up to challenge the very foundation of her world, literally and metaphorically, and she knew she – and the rest of Soul Society, and even Hueco Mundo for that matter – was all the better for it. That boy had become the steadiest part of her, the very touchstone at her core.

When he turned his gaze and caught her eye, he grinned widely, and she couldn’t help but believe that that smile was reserved for her. By the way Isshin turned and waggled his eyebrows, he seemed to think so, too. Once the graduates joined the milling crowd, she was swept up several times: once by an ecstatic Orihime, once by an equally happy Tatsuki, and once by a weeping Keigo, who she patted awkwardly on the head until Sado rescued her from his arms. Keigo draped himself just as dramatically over his large friend’s shoulder, and Sado, completely unbothered by the weight, let him hang there. Ichigo let her get lost in the current of their friends, but she found herself catching his unabashed stare over and again.

Eventually, the group was rounded up and herded to the clinic for post-graduation celebrations. Isshin had promptly abandoned ship, choosing instead to head to Urahara’s shop for some celebratory drinks, which left the house to the whims of the new graduates. Mizuiro quickly took the reins from Ichigo, who gladly left the party in his friend’s capable hands. Alcohol of their own made its appearance, and Rukia kept an eye on the Kurosaki girls, just in case they got any ideas about underage drinking. Karin had merely sniffed at someone’s cup, made a face, and retreated to the kitchen for a soda.

It was certainly good to catch up with everyone again. Rukia had not realized how much she had missed not only their company, but also their energy and zeal, and she felt herself fall back into the group as if she had only been away for a long weekend. While she did have friends in Soul Society, this was the first group of people that she had bonded with so quickly and who had wrapped her in warm welcome. At some point in the early morning, when the festivities were finally winding down – how these humans had so much energy, she would never know – she escaped outside for a breath of cool air. The March night breeze caressed her face, bringing with it the faint scent of sakura from the park, and she shivered from the slight chill that still lingered. Someone opened the door behind her, and the smile that graced her lips transformed into a smirk, but she didn’t bother to turn around.

“Well,” she announced to the empty street. “I believe a congratulations are in order.” The door closed softly, and his eternally warm presence settled next to her. He draped a light jacket over her shoulders without a word, and she gratefully shrugged it on, glad that he hadn’t bothered to scold her about leaving it inside.

“It’s been a long time coming. I know some of the people in there were sad you didn’t graduate along with us.”

That startled a sincere laugh out her, and she turned to face him. “Like I need a diploma!”

“It’s the sentimentality of it,” Ichigo returned, bending down to match her height with a smirk of his own. “Obviously, you don’t need a diploma. You’re an old woman at this point, aren’t you?” She whacked him in his chest, and he rubbed the area tenderly. “Ooh, touchy subject.” He dodged another slap. “Alright, alright.” He turned his attention back to the sky. With all the light pollution, he could only pick out a few stars, but the moon shone brightly in the dark. “When are you going back?”

Rukia clearly heard his resigned tone and hummed fondly in response. “Sentaro should have it covered for a few days. It’s been a while since I’ve spent any real time down here.”

Ichigo snorted. “No kidding,” he grumbled, kicking a dry leaf off of the stoop. Despite his insistence that she visit, this had been her first trip back to Karakura since he left. She had thought that he would have been too busy catching up in school to notice, but apparently her absence had been well noted.

They let the suddenly tense silence stretch between them for a few minutes before she coughed awkwardly and shoved her cold hands in her jacket pockets. “So, university in a few months? Have you decided where you’ll go?”

“Ah,” Ichigo replied easily, but he purposely avoided eye contact, choosing instead to stare a bit down the street. He rubbed a hand against his neck, a nervous habit Rukia was more than familiar with, “I’ve actually deferred for a year.”

Rukia blinked up at him. “What?”

“I’m not the only one – even Ishida’s doing it. We all need a bit of a break. Besides, some old midget told me I had to ‘experience life,’” he went on, almost flippant in tone, and finally turned to her completely. His gaze softened as he met hers, “so that’s something I intend to do.”

She felt that hard thump in her chest again, but she also felt the frustration welling beneath it. “Why you–” he dodged the kick aimed for his shin, but, instead of moving away, he skirted in closer. “Knowing you, you’re going to be spending some of that year in Soul Society, instead of here.”

“Hmm,” he agreed. “Most of it, even.”

She almost growled in annoyance. She had always known the boy was thick-headed, but this was a new level, even for him. “That’s not what I meant when I said that, and you _know_ it!”

“Alright, then.” He stepped forward again, and Rukia had to crane her neck to meet the frustratingly fond expression on his face. “What did you mean?”

“I meant go to school! Travel! Find–” she swallowed and pushed down the pain building in her chest. “Find someone.”

“Well, I went to school.” He smiled. “I’ve had enough of studying for a while. And it’s not like Soul Society is just in my backyard,” Ichigo leaned down, “so I think that covers ‘travel.’ And as for finding someone? I found her a long time ago.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t look away from his heated, tender gaze, and, despite her jacket, she felt something akin to a shiver run down her spine. “Ichigo?” It was barely a whisper, his name little more than breath from her lips. He brought up his hands to cup her face.

“You told me to ‘experience life,’ Rukia. Are you willing to experience it with me?”

Her heart beat painfully in her chest. “Fool,” she murmured and grasped his sweater. “Stupid. _Stupid_. How is that even a question?” Rukia felt her lips pull into a smile, but she ignored the prickling sensation in her eyes. “Fool.” She leaned into his cradling hand and brushed her lips across his wrist. “Idiot.”

Ichigo released a shuddering breath. “Thank god.” His lips met hers, and Rukia knew what it was that had always been between them.

_More_ , she thought. _It had always been more_.

His hands left her face only to drift down her hips, his heat seemingly burning the trail through her jacket. Without breaking their kiss, he hoisted her higher, and she helpfully wrapped her legs around his waist. Her own hands moved into that ridiculous hair of his, twining her fingers in the soft orange strands. She felt herself melt against the plush of his lips and wondered if he felt the same way.

When they finally needed air and drew back, Rukia leaned down to press their foreheads together. Her hands fell to tease the short hairs above his neck and clasped the back of his head. His breath warmed her lips, and she chuckled softly. “I think I like looking down on you.”

“It’s a whole new experience for you, isn’t it?” he teased and, before she could protest, captured her in a kiss once more. As she pulled her arms around his neck, she found she couldn’t really argue with his statement, anyway.

* * *

Rukia frowned down at her desk. While she was no longer buried in paperwork – the Captain Commander’s suggestion had gone a long way in that regard – she still found herself busy attempting to navigate the waters of captaincy. That was what she was, in all but name: Captain. The minutia of running the division had been handed over to Sentaro, who was already used to the dealings thanks to his experience before she had become Vice Captain, the overreaching division policy had fallen to her. The pressure made her think of the Commander’s other piece of advice regarding distractions, but that only made her scowl deepen.

Her distraction was nowhere to be found. 

Ichigo had returned with her to Soul Society just the week prior, and already he was off fighting some other testosterone-filled adrenaline junkie. While she was more than happy with the way their relationship had progressed – a satisfied shiver ran down her spine – she wanted to be a little more selfish with him. _Don’t be bitter_ , she chanted to herself as she signed yet another promotion form. _Don’t be bitter just because he gets to have fun training with your friends, and you’re stuck in here getting ink stains on your fingers._ Rukia stood up from her desk with a frustrated groan.

It was too late. She was super bitter.

Just then, her ears picked out the sound of his raucous laughter from the courtyard, and she bit her lip. _Perfect timing_ , she thought. She couldn’t focus on her work anymore, anyway. Soon enough, her beau walked through her door, dirty and grimy and gorgeous.

“Hey,” he greeted her with an easy grin. “You ready to go?”

“Hm,” she responded non-committedly, but Ichigo did not seem to mind or be in any real hurry. She narrowed her eyes and came around from the back of her desk, only to sit against it to face him. “You know, I don’t know why, but when you said that you would be spending a lot of time in Soul Society I thought at least some it would be spent with _me_.” Ichigo blinked at her from where he was toweling sweat off his neck. Rukia resisted the urge to just watch in silence, but the envy that had driven her crazy all day crawled up her throat to sit on her tongue.

Ichigo grinned slyly and swaggered forward. Rukia hated how good he looked when he did that, especially with dirt on his face and his hair in utter disarray. She crossed her arms. “Oh? Is someone jealous?”

She huffed. “If all you wanted to do was come back to train with Renji and Kenpachi and Nii-sama and whoever else, you only had to say so,” she dismissed. She squeaked as Ichigo tugged her off her seat and into his tight embrace. “Let me go, fool!”

“I thought you wanted to spend some time together!” he joked, squeezing her tighter. He craned his neck to look down on her. “Would you rather I spend all day annoying you here at the offices?”

Rukia grumbled into his chest. She knew he had a point; the man was impossible to keep still, and after ten minutes he would be driving her up with wall. “Maybe not all day.” She felt his laugh against her face and buried it in his shihakusho to hide her blush.

Ew. Sweaty. Bad idea.

“But I would appreciate seeing you sometime before sunset.”

Ichigo looked outside, as if he had yet to realize that he had spent all day training. “Sorry,” he relented. He knew of his tendency to get caught up in his competitiveness. “I’ll try to stop losing track of time.”

“Whatever. Go take a shower,” she muttered and wriggled out of his grasp, slapping his chest as she pushed away. “You smell like a monkey.”

“I’m going to tell Renji you said that.”

“Please, he knows what he smells like.”

* * *

“Ouch! Watch it!”

“Baby,” she accused, unimpressed, and slapped another on a cut over his eyebrow. Ichigo winced.

“Did you have to use the Chappy bandaids?”

“It’s all I have on hand.” Another bandage went to his cheekbone. “See, this is why you shouldn’t fight Nii-sama!” He tried not to pout, but he still felt himself slouch under her scolding.

“I’m just not used to the whole two-swords thing yet,” he practically whined. Rukia gave him a look that clearly expressed her lack of pity for him.

“Two swords, but zero brain.”

“I still have two ears that can hear perfectly fine though, thank you very much.”

* * *

Three months into his stay and, despite their relationship not yet evolving into something more intimate, Ichigo had given up all pretext of sleeping in the Thirteenth’s barracks. It’s not like he was unused to sharing a space with Rukia, after all; having her within arm’s reach brought him back to the days where all they did was hunt hollows and go to school, before the complications of her almost-execution and the almost-collapse of the world as they knew it. Some nights, he woke in a cold sweat, a helpless yell on his lips, but the sight of her curled next to him silenced the cries. When he heard her get up in the mornings to prepare for work, he merely rolled into the warm space she left behind to remind himself that she wouldn’t be gone forever.

On his good days, after nights of uninterrupted sleep, he would join her, only to doze off in the chair in her office after breakfast. Those days, he always remembered to check his face before heading to training – after one day of unknowingly walking around with her crappy ink drawings decorating his cheeks, he vowed _never again_.

Three months into his stay, Ichigo’s routine was simple: wake up, eat breakfast, find someone to distract and tempt into morning training, hunt down Rukia for lunch, help her in the Thirteenth, lure someone else into afternoon training, pick Rukia up from the offices. There were variants, of course – some days he hung around the Shinōreijutsuin, either to watch the instructors lead the students through proper forms or to sit in on kido classes. Each day he felt himself grow stronger, closer to where he had been before his power had taken such a severe blow from Yhwach, and each day he felt himself become more grounded within that strength. When his power grew in leaps and bounds – as it had a tendency to do in wartime – Ichigo had never had a chance to fully align himself with its growth. Oftentimes, his power seemed to be bursting out of him, out of control and unfocused. With his new routine, Ichigo found the time to concentrate that power, to tame and nurture it into something honed and healthy.

Three months into his stay, Ichigo came to the easy realization that his hazy vision of university classes was slowly being replaced with his notes on kido, and thoughts of a university dorm roommate disappeared under the image of what Rukia looked like as she snuggled her face into his shoulder.

Three months into his stay, Ichigo knew that he could happily stay that way forever.

* * *

“ _Iiiiiichigooooo!_ ” Matsumoto banged her way into the Thirteenth’s offices, wielding a jug of sake and what seemed to be a binder of some sort. The young man in question looked up from his work; Rukia had set him to task on developing training scenarios for the division, seemingly glad to unload that job on someone else.

Some days, Ichigo felt like he did more Vice Captain’s work than Sentaro.

“A little early for Happy Hour, isn’t it?”

“You’re young, you’ll grasp the concept of ‘day-drinking’ soon enough,” the blonde dismissed and deposited the jug on the desk. Rukia scowled at it, but only pushed it to a corner where it would be out of the way. “I was doing some archive work–”

“More like ‘hiding in the stacks,’” Rukia muttered.

“–when I found this!” Matsumoto exclaimed, holding the binder aloft. “I think you’d find it quite interesting,” she finished with a wink and dropped it in Ichigo’s lap.

He examined the binder critically, running his fingers over the cracked and peeling spine before glancing at the woman suspiciously. “I’m not going to regret opening this, am I?”

She pouted and planted her hands on her hips. “Would I do that to you?”

“Yes. I believe you would.”

“Oh, just open it, already.” Rukia rested her chin in her hands, paperwork forgotten. “Whatever is in there is guaranteed to be entertaining, or she wouldn’t have bothered bringing it over.”

Ichigo acquiesced with a sigh and cracked the cover, and he was met with the same obnoxious grin he had woken up to for nearly eighteen straight years. “You’re kidding me.”

“The Tenth Division used to have a _very_ dedicated historian,” Matsumoto laughed. “I thought you might find something to embarrass the old Captain over later!”

“It’s like looking at his high school yearbook,” he snorted, flipping through the pages, “but instead of a few years of bellbottoms, I’m getting a whole _century_ of bad decisions.”

“And he had plenty of those,” Matsumoto pointed out a couple of pictures in particular with a grin. “How do you think I ended up like this? I had a good role model!”

“Believe me, he _still_ makes plenty of those.” Ichigo shook his head and passed the book to his curious girlfriend. “Poor Toushirou. I guess he’s had to deal with all this a lot longer than I had thought. I hope you know that I’m keeping this,” he shot a look Matsumoto, who merely shrugged good-naturedly. “This is a goldmine.”

“For not visiting us for so long, Captain Shiba had it coming,” she laughed. She grabbed her bottle and headed toward the door, “but drinks tonight are on you, kid!”

“Nah, they’re on Renji – he ate it this morning in training.”

“Even better! Later, you lovebirds,” the blonde blew a kiss before flouncing down the hallway. Ichigo just shook his head and turned back to Rukia, who still flipped through the yellowed pages in fascination.

“Hey,” he got her attention, but she responded with a distracted hum. “You okay?”

“What do you mean?”

Ichigo sighed and glanced down at one particular photograph, which showed his young father holding what had to be a relative in a headlock. He tapped a finger against it. “I know you have a bit of a history with the Shibas, you know.”

Her eyes softened at the image, and a small smile played on her lips. “I had a long conversation with your father some time back, after I found out.” Ichigo could imagine just how that talk went, too. “He’s always been too kind to me.”

“That old man is obnoxious blabbermouth prone to hyperbole,” he droned, “but more than anything, Dad’s fair, and a good judgement of character.” Ichigo brushed her dark hair behind her ear, letting his fingers dance across her cheek. “So, I think you had better get used to the fact that he adopted you a long time ago.”

Rukia laughed, and he felt an answering grin light his face. The office seemed a little brighter. “Get back to work, you sap.” He leaned forward to press a tender kiss to her forehead before placing another on her lips.

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased and pretended not to noticed the flush that stayed high on her cheeks.

* * *

Rukia gasped against his lips as he trailed a heavy hand down her back, and she pressed closer of his addictive heat. “Ichi-” his name was covered with his kiss, and she clasped the sides of his face desperately. He pulled back for a moment, and she took the opportunity to study him: hair rumpled, eyes bright, and lips reddened from her own. At the last thought, she ducked in to press their lips together again, drawing a soft groan from the man beneath her. She pushed back shortly, and he began to kiss his way down to where the collar of her shihakusho had fallen open. “Ichigo…”

“Hmm?” He pressed a kiss between her breasts before looking up to meet her eyes. His earnest gaze never failed to make her heart thump harder, and she blushed knowing that he could probably feel her quickening pulse against his lips. A small smile from him told her she was right.

Her thumbs swept over his cheekbones as she marveled at this man in her hands. “We don’t have to if you–”

“Oh,” he interrupted and nipped her collarbone. “I want to.”

She repressed the urge to continue right then, but she knew that his experience with intimacy could only be traced back to the beginning of their relationship. “Are you sure?”

“Do you want to?”

“Fool,” she muttered breathlessly against his lips. “Of course.”

“Thank god,” he groaned and surged up, claiming her in a bruising kiss of his own. She opened under him immediately, and he moved to deepen the kiss further. She felt his hands tangle in her hair, and she absently wondered what it would feel like when it was longer. When they broke for breath, he tugged at her bottom lip and chuckled at her whine. “Though, I am a bit new to this.” Rukia pressed a peck to the corner of his mouth but drew back before he could capture her lips again.

“It’s a steep learning curve,” Rukia ran her hands down his chest. His kosode and shitagi came untucked easily, and she pushed them down his arms and tossed them aside. He gave her an even look, as if to say, _well, I’m here, aren’t I?_ She grinned and pressed him back on the futon. “Then I’ll try and be gentle.” He laughed and shook his head, and she let her own joy bubble out of her throat.

Ichigo’s hands came up and made short work of her own shihakusho, and Rukia couldn’t think of a better feeling than his callused palms sliding over her bare skin. He shivered as her own sword-roughened fingers glanced over his nipples – apparently, he felt the same. She pressed a few kisses down his stomach before he pulled her back up, eager the taste her lips again, and she laced her fingers behind his head to hold him there. His open mouthed kisses wandered down her throat before coming back to her lips, as if he were aching just to be as connected to her as he could. His hands traced down her back to cup her ass, and Rukia pressed downward with a moan. He groaned in response and took a nipple into his mouth.

Rukia’s back arched, giving into the unbelievable feeling of his tongue against her breast. One of Ichigo’s hands flew to the dip of her back, bracing her against him as he switched sides. The cool air almost stung against her abandoned skin, and she gripped his hair to pull him up to her mouth again. She felt the hand that had been massaging her behind move lower, and she keened against his kiss as he traced around her labia. She ground down into his hand and reveled in the moan he released as his fingers dipped into her warmth. “Around the front,” she instructed between gasps, and he hastily adjusted his grip to cup her mound. She pressed against his palm and smiled as his thumb immediately came to the little bundle of nerves at the top of her folds. “At least,” she panted out, “I don’t have to tell you where the clitoris is.”

“Please,” Ichigo scoffed and circled his thumb. Rukia bit her lip against the cry that threatened to slip out, “I have a notorious womanizer and a notorious pervert for friends. Of course I know how to find your clit. They’ve given me lectures about it, Rukia. _Lectures_.”

“I would really prefer not to talk about them while we’re having sex, Ichigo,” she breathed, then gasped as his free hand rose to press against a breast.

“Agreed.” His thumb flicked against her clit again while he pressed a finger into her folds. Rukia reached down herself and corrected his angle, then rolled her hips and shuddered at the feeling.

“Right there. Give me more.” He readily complied, fingering her open while maintaining his pressure on his thumb. She felt a tightening beginning to coil in her core, and she ground against his fingers. When the pressure became just a hair too much, she pushed off of him, reaching down to fumble with the knot on his hakama. “Get this _off_ ,” she grumbled before the belt was picked apart. Ichigo lifted his hips to help her as she pushed the clothes down, and he kicked them off the rest of the way.

Rukia smoothed her hand over his cock, and he had to cover his mouth to suppress his moan. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold a man in her palm; hard iron wrapped in velvet, and pulsing like a heart in a chest. She pumped him gently, well aware of how sensitive he was at the moment. Ichigo gave a half-cry of her name before he covered his mouth again, and she grinned. She pressed a thumb to the crown and pulled his precum down with her hand on the next stroke. “Easy there, Ichigo.” Rukia felt her own slick against her inner thighs knew she was ready to take him.

She turned back to face him and straddled his stomach, pushing her hips back just enough to rub their bare sexes together. A haze of pleasure passed over Ichigo’s face, and he reached to cup her cheek tenderly. She pressed into his touch and at the same time reached behind her to line up his cock. She turned to kiss his palm and began to sink down on him.

If she thought he looked blissed out before, she had no idea how to describe his expression as she slowly pressed herself onto his cock. He shut his eyes for a split second but opened them again just as quickly, as if he had to remind himself that he wanted to commit the sight to memory. That alone made heat rise in her cheeks again; the look of pure affection that he studied her with made her tremble under his gaze. She rolled her hips gently, taking in more of him, and they moaned together. As much as she would have liked to take him in all at once, she knew she was small, and Ichigo was certainly not wanting in the size department, so she rocked herself gently, easing herself onto him.

As she found herself fully seated, she had to take a moment to breathe and compose herself. Ichigo’s hands had fallen to her thighs, and, although she knew he had to be just as overwhelmed as she was, he had begun to massage against her skin to relax her. She shot him a look of gratitude, and his smile gave her the confidence to clench her vaginal muscles and _grind_.

“Oh, god. _Rukia_!” He cried, and she lifted her hips once more, only to take him to the root again. His hands clenched on her legs, and she took a hand off of his chest to pull his to her waist. She continued her pace, rolling her hips as she pumped herself on his cock. After taking a moment to get a sense of the rhythm, Ichigo began to thrust as well, and Rukia saw stars.

Rukia keened, and he took that as encouragement to continue, meeting her downward stroke with an upward thrust that made both of them pant with pleasure. She leaned forward, pressing both of her hands on his chest, to change the angle, and she gasped when he brushed that spot inside of her. “There, Ichigo!” He did as she asked, and she clenched around his member in pleasure every time the jolt of desire raced through her. He began to use his hands on her waist to pull her down harder. Rukia felt that coil in her belly become almost unbearable before he reached down – completely without her instruction, she was happy to think about later – to circle her clit again, and she cried out as she released. Her orgasm prompted his own, as her already tight passage squeezed around him, and Ichigo came with a shout of his own.

Rukia fell against his chest, sated, but winced when he pulled her higher and slipped her off him. She snuggled under his chin and listened to the rush of his pulse as he came down from his high, smiling when she realized her heart was beating just as fast. Ichigo’s warm hands travelled up her body, rubbing out the ache that was sure to return in the morning.

“So?” His voice rumbled through his chest, and she hummed thoughtfully.

“Room for improvement.” She laughed at his scandalized expression and kept laughing as he rolled them over, pressing pouting lips into her neck only to blow a raspberry against the skin. She shrieked through her mirth and tugged unsuccessfully at his hair to stop his teasing. Ichigo pulled back on his own with a grin on his lips, the one that he reserved for her and her alone, and she pulled him down by the ears to seal her own smile against his.

* * *

The early sunlight streamed into her quarters, and Rukia couldn't help but marvel at the way it lit up his fiery hair. A hand rose up and made itself at home in the soft strands, and she sifted through them with a contented hum.

As usual, she had awoken earlier than he had, and she took those moments to study the thick eyelashes that rested over his cheek, his slightly parted lips as if he were just waiting for a kiss. Like most mornings those days, she had roused with the steady drum of his heart under her ear, Ichigo's arms locking her in place even in sleep. She found herself not for the first time more than grateful for the privacy her Vice Captain’s quarters afforded to her.  
  
Rukia took a breath, ready to call her lover into the waking world, when a soft knock broke the morning stillness. With one final stroke to his hair, she slipped out of his tight grasp. She shrugged on a light yukata and made her way out of the bedroom to the small living chamber. The knock sounded again as she made it to the door, and she slid the entrance open to her noble brother, already impeccably dressed and prepared for the day's work.  
  
"Nii-sama," she greeted curiously and unconsciously straightened her robe.  
  
"Rukia," he returned. "I had hoped to find you before your morning duties."  
  
"Ah, yes, I have some time before leaving to the office. What can I do for you?"  
  
"I was hoping to talk. Perhaps," he shot a quick glance into the quarters, and Rukia inwardly cringed at the thought that she had not closed the bedroom door all the way; Ichigo's telltale shock of bright hair left no doubt as to whom she had shared a bed with the previous night, and she couldn't pretend that her observant older brother had not noticed, "we could go for a walk."  
  
"Yes," she agreed quickly. "Just a moment to get presentable, Nii-sama." Byakuya nodded and turned to look down the hallway. Rukia took the opportunity to quickly shut the apartment door and hurry to get fully dressed. Ichigo groaned as she slipped her sandals over her tabi, and she moved to kneel over the futon. “Good morning, sleepyhead. You going to join the waking world any time soon?”

The man cracked an eye, chocolate gaze clouded with sleep. “Not likely. Where…?” He yawned into his pillow. She withheld a laugh; the bum wasn’t going anywhere.

Rukia merely dropped a kiss on his forehead, but she had to move quickly to avoid being dragged back to bed. “Breakfast with Nii-san. Go back to sleep,” she answered gently. True to form, he grumbled and turned over, and his soft snores resumed almost immediately.

She rejoined her brother in the hall, and the two made their way to the Thirteenth’s gardens. As they picked their way down the path, Rukia waited for her brother to make his point, but he seemed content enough to walk in silence.

“Nii-sama,” she prompted gently. He sighed deeply, but kept his gaze from meeting hers. A sick sensation began to coil in her stomach. She pushed the feeling down.

 “The Central 46 has recently come to a decision regarding world relations. The Captain Commander informed me last night; both he and I thought you would rather have heard it from me than from a messenger.”

Rukia felt herself hesitate and lag behind her brother a bit. The sense of foreboding returned. A bird sung from a plum tree. “Oh?”

"They wished to cut off ties with the Living World entirely until the realms once again became stable," Byakuya explained, "but it was decided that doing so would only heighten the volatility they wished to avoid." Rukia let a soft breath of relief leave her chest, but she felt her heart sink when Byakuya's troubled expression did not ease. "What they did agree on,” he continued, “was their belief that powered beings would threaten the tenuous grip that currently prevent the worlds from falling in on one another."

Rukia grabbed her brother’s arm and pulled him to a stop. Her violet gaze had turned flinty, and her tone was just as sharp. "Beings like Ichigo."

As always, Byakuya refused to mince words. "Yes."

“That’s ridiculous!” She seethed, only barely noticing as she clenched his shihakusho sleeve in her tightening fist. “Time and again has proven that Ichigo and his friends – _my_ friends! – have worked in Soul Society’s best interests!” She released her brother, and he turned to regard her fully. She paced on the dirt path, kicking up a small cloud of dust as she turned back and forth. “So, what, they’ll ban him from Soul Society? No one would let that stand!” She could practically feel the blood rushing to her face in anger, and she clenched her fists only so they wouldn’t run through her hair.

“I believe that he's proven well enough where his loyalties lie.” Byakuya cut a sly look to his sister, and she couldn't help the flush that rose to further burn her cheeks. "It's the future that they are more concerned about. Those who do not yet exist, and therefore hold no such loyalties."

She almost groaned in frustration. "Please, just _tell_ me, Nii-sama!"

He placed a hand on her shoulders. “Stop.” She did, practically vibrating in his grasp. "There's to be a law forbidding fraternization with living beings."

Rukia's breath froze in her lungs. She somehow managed to gasp out an inquiry, and he sighed again, as though the news weighed heavily on his chest, as well.

“But we finally… they can’t just…” she brought shaking hands to her mouth.

Byakuya plainly read her distress – in fact, he had well anticipated it when he himself had received the news – and he cupped her cheek. “You know that I would wish for nothing more than your joy, Rukia. I am sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she dismissed him with an unsteady sigh and stepped back out of his touch. Byakuya frowned at her shell-shocked response, but he was well aware that she was struggling to fully process his words.

“Discuss with Kurosaki. Preferably in a location that hasn't already been rebuilt.” Rukia absently allowed herself a soft snort in response to her brother's practical humor. Byakuya stroked an escaped tear away from her cheek before stepping back. “I'll leave you to it.”

“Yes.”

Rukia blinked, and he was gone. Slowly, dreadfully, she marched back to her quarters, once again burdened by the undeserved weight of the Central 46.

* * *

“So this is it, then, huh?” Ichigo croaked, his throat constricted with emotion. The senkaimon stood open behind him, ready and waiting to whisk him away from where he belonged – from who he belonged with. The sun shone brightly, not at all a reflection of the emotions of the doomed couple, and Ichigo absently wished that the weather would allow him at least the decency of a somber, overcast day, but no luck.

A surprisingly large number of his friends had shown up for his departure, but he couldn’t tell if they were there in support or just to witness the spectacle of the Kurosaki-Kuchiki breakup. Once word of the anti-fraternization decree had disseminated through the ranks, all eyes had turned to their fledgling romance. He hadn’t been able to take it for long; the weight of their sympathetic stares seemed almost as bad as the pressure from the law itself. If he had known that something like that was going to happen, Ichigo would have kept their relationship a secret from the beginning. Now, he really understood what people had always said about hindsight.

Rukia brushed the heel of her hand across her eyes in a vain attempt to cover their redness. “Yeah, I guess it is. It was good while it lasted, right?” She attempted a brave smile, which was more than Ichigo could do. “Give my regards to everyone.”

Ichigo stepped forward, uncaring of the eyes on them, and took her face in his hands. Ever so tenderly, he bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He heard her soft gasp before he felt the tear against his fingers. Pulling away, he settled their foreheads together and basked in the moment of holding her to him. He was certain that he heard Matsumoto cover a soft cry from her place in the crowd.

“Bye, Rukia.”

“Goodbye, Ichigo.”

He stepped back slowly, allowing his touch to linger as long as it could, before he turned and walked through the gate without a second look. When he landed in his neighborhood and the senkaimon slid shut with a _snap_ , he made his way to his – thankfully empty – home and retreated his now-dusty room.

Ichigo waited there until nightfall, only moving to turn on his desk lamp when it grew too dark. When a familiar reiatsu flooded his senses, he threw open his window. She rushed in, and he wrapped her as tightly as he could in his arms. Her hands flew about his waist and fisted over his back. With a shuttered breath, he felt peace for the first time all day.

“Ichigo,” Rukia pointed out, face still buried in chest, “you need to close the window.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He reluctantly released one hand to do so and drew the curtains across for good measure. “Did they buy it?”

“Fool, _I_ almost believed it,” she whispered, and he laid his cheek against the crown of her head. “Honestly, I can’t believe I made it here… the Shinigami Women’s Association basically swooped in as soon as you left.” At his questioning hum, she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. But they were nice.”

“They were worried,” Ichigo corrected, quietly grateful for the support she knew she had back in Soul Society.

“Yeah.”

Ichigo moved them to sit on the bed and soon had a lap full of Rukia. She snuggled under his chin comfortably. “And your brother?”

“He one-hundred percent didn’t believe it.” Ichigo startled, but she laughed softly and soothed his nerves. “It’s okay, though. How else do you think I got here?”

Ichigo spared a thought to the Kuchiki family’s private senkaimon. “That’ll come in handy.” She pulled back, still easily perched on his thighs, and brushed her fingers across his face. “Can we agree never to do that again?” She nodded. “Good.” He pressed their foreheads together, an echo of what he had done earlier, and Rukia brought a hand behind his head to hold him there. “Hi, Rukia.”

She allowed a small smile, somehow just as brave in their solitude as it was during their act. “Hello, Ichigo.”

* * *

“This is bullshit.”

“I know.”

“Like, grade-A fertilizer _bullshit_.”

“I _know_ , Renji. And in case you hadn’t noticed, you repeating it over and over again _really doesn’t help_ ,” Rukia ground out. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at the bartop.

Rukia knew her friend was just trying to sympathize with her. She also knew that he missed Ichigo, too – he and the rest of the Gotei Thirteen. Everywhere she went, she was subjected to pitying glances and comforting words. The Women’s Association regularly sent members to her office to drag her to lunch, or shopping, or any number of distracting activities that she, frankly, didn’t have time for. Though she knew Renji missed Ichigo like a brother, she really couldn’t find it in herself to talk about it. Rukia felt like one more word on the subject would have her jumping on the bar and yelling something along the lines of, “ _it’s all an act! We didn’t break up, we’re secretly still together, so everyone can stop pitying me, already!_ ”

“Can we just talk about something else?” _Anything else before I spontaneously combust?_

“Sure. Sorry. Well, the Eleventh is holding their annual Obon Festival melee tournament next week.”

The woman snorted and took a sip of her sake. “They really will use any excuse to beat the crap out of each other, won’t they?”

“Yup,” he grinned with a glazed look in his eye, clearly thinking back to days in his old division. “Nothing like it.”

“I take it you’ll join in?”

“Yeah, it should be a cinch, now that Ichigo’s gone.”

Rukia merely groaned and dropped her head to the bar.

* * *

“You know, you could at least pretend to be interested in the world around you,” Ishida drawled, pulling Ichigo back to earth. Ichigo blinked, unaware that his cousin had been talking to him.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

The other man sighed and pressed his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Is this going to be like sophomore year, again? I don’t think I could handle any more of that.” Ichigo shook his head with a small smile.

“No, we can still see each other. We just have to be careful.”

“Oh, so not depression. _Pining_. That’s almost worse,” he grumbled. He flicked absently at his boba tea straw, and Ichigo realized that something was weighing heavily on Ishida’s mind.

“Hey, what’s going on? You seem even more surly than usual.”

The other young man sighed and rested his face in his hands. “My father has put forth a proposal to me.” At Ichigo’s encouraging look, he continued, “He will subsidize my university payment, but only if I study medicine.”

Ichigo scowled. “Dude.”

“I know.”

“ _Dude_.”

Ishida grit his teeth. “ _I know,_ but he’ll pay for everything. School, rent,” he sighed, and Ichigo could see longing behind his eyes, “ _sewing supplies_.”

“So, what, you’ll make yourself miserable just to please him on the off chance that you’ll be able to keep your fashion stuff going?” Ichigo shook his head. “I thought you were the smart one.”

“I know it’s not _ideal_.”

“It sounds like your own personal nightmare.”

“If I do this, he’ll support whatever I decide to do after graduation. I just have to make it until then.”

“If you say so, man.”

“It’s more of a plan than you have.” Ichigo gave a noncommittal grumble in reply and sucked on his straw. His cousin stared him down over the rim of his glasses until he sat back in his chair with a scowl.

“I _had_ a plan.” Ichigo brushed his fingers over his shirt material; he imagined it was his kosode. _Forever_ , he’d thought. _So much for that._

“I can’t see why you can’t just stay in Soul Society and work there. I didn’t think they would kick you out.”

“They didn’t,” Ichigo sighed and pushed a hand through his hair, “but if I stayed, it would only be super obvious that Rukia and I were breaking the law, so,” he gestured awkwardly in front of him, as if to say, _here I am_. “At least this way, we get a little bit of plausible deniability, being in different worlds and all.”

“So you _had_ a plan. Looks like you need a new one.” Ichigo leveled a glare at him, but Ishida didn’t back down. “It may not be what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. If you’re going to be stuck here, at least be stuck here and _doing_ something.”

Ichigo grumbled in agreement and thought back to acceptance letters buried in his desk. _Not yet_ , he thought with a scowl.

* * *

Rukia fiddled with the cuff around his wrist. “This thing has to be uncomfortable.”

“Mm,” Ichigo hummed to himself. “Yeah, but I don’t mind.” Rukia looked up at him from where she had laid on his chest, meeting his tender gaze. “It lets me come see you, after all.”

“Sap,” she snorted and continued to run her fingers over the reiatsu inhibitor.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, but Rukia could hear the humor in his tone. “It’s not like I have to sneak around like your dirty-flirty-squeeze toy, or anything.” Rukia gasped and slapped his chest, and a laugh he couldn’t contain escaped. “Hey!”

“I don’t like this sneaking around thing any more than you do. I just whine about it less, apparently,” she huffed and then squeaked as his arms wrapped tightly around her. Ichigo grinned down at her as she struggled vainly in his embrace, small legs kicking harmlessly. “Let me go!” She calmed down when she felt him press his smile to the crown of her head.

“Hey, I wasn’t saying I didn’t _like_ being your dirty,” he kissed her forehead, “flirty,” her cheek, “squeeze toy.” His last kiss landed on her nose, and she pouted. Ichigo loosened his grip, if only to reach up to run his fingers through her hair. The filtered moonlight that pushed past the paper shutters set everything in the room aglow, and Rukia herself looked as if she were the source of the soft radiance. Now that he was spending most of his days back in the Living World again, Ichigo longed for such stolen moments. “I’ll be your anything, if it means I can be right here with you.”

Rukia searched his face and saw the earlier playfulness set aside for the moment, and her own longing and pain reflected back. “Ichigo…”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Fool,” she murmured and pressed her lips to his. “I saw you last week.”

“Too long.” His protest came quickly, and Rukia felt the objection keenly in her own chest. She swept her fingers along the edge of his collarbone.

“Yeah.” A beat. “My anything?”

“For now,” he relented. “One day, maybe your everything.”

She snorted. “Mister Kurosaki, what a _line_.”

He hummed amusedly and pressed her closer. “I’ve been sitting on it for a little while,” he admitted. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

She raised a dubious eyebrow. “How long is ‘a little while’?”

“Long enough,” he refused to specify, and she rolled her eyes. He reached down and took her hand. “Rukia, there’s no one else. There’s never been anyone else. There never will be anyone else. It’s you, or no one.” His thumb stroked across her ring finger.

Rukia couldn’t help the smile pressing at the corners of her lips. “One day?”

“One day,” Ichigo promised, and she met him in the middle to seal it with a kiss.

* * *

“Vice Captain! Are you alright?” Rukia pressed a hand to her forehead, willing the dizziness to subside. Once she pushed down the nausea that had risen with her swimming vision, she waving off the concerned grasp of her aide. The young woman continued to hover, worry plain on her features.

“Yes, sorry. I must have skipped a meal,” she dismissed with a polite smile. “Would you mind fetching some tea and something to eat?” Yamaguchi nodded eagerly and darted off as soon as she had escorted Rukia back into her seat. The Vice Captain breathed a weary sigh and rubbed her temple. The dizzy spells had been happening more frequently as of late, enough so that Byakuya had sat her down for a stern lecture about overworking herself.

She pushed down another wave of queasiness with a groan. Tea would certainly help with that. She pulled some paperwork toward her and tried to focus on filling out the requisition forms. Her aide was back soon enough with the warm drink and snacks, which she nibbled on absently as she continued her work. Maybe her brother had a point; she supposed she could foist some of this busywork off on Sentaro. Rukia was sure he wouldn’t mind.

As the sun began its descent, Rukia leaned back in her chair and stared out the window, her eyes tracing over the tangerine light as it fell over the rooftops of Seireitei. A smile played at her lips, and she didn’t bother to push away the thoughts of a certain bright haired individual when they came to mind. The two of them had continued their charade for several months now, stolen nights here and there in both the Living World and Soul Society, courtesy of the reiatsu suppressor supplied by one Urahara Kisuke. It wasn’t a perfect situation – she would much rather that she and Ichigo be allowed to love each other publically – but Rukia wouldn’t give it up for the world.

In fact, she noted the clock as she began to clean up her desk, she was due in the Living World in a few hours. She set off into a shunpo toward the Kuchiki Estate, paying little heed to the rest of Soul Society as she sped by. As she came to a stop on family grounds, however, the world continued to spin around her. She blindly reached for a something to support her – a wall, a tree, _anything_ – but her hand only met air, and Rukia felt her stomach flip in panic.

“Rukia?” The voice sounded far away.

“Nii-sama…” Her knees buckled, and she hardly registered the alarmed shout before her vision faded to black.

Her eyelids felt like lead. It took more effort than she knew it should to slowly blink them open, and she found herself staring up at the ceiling of her Kuchiki chambers, wondering how she was laying on a futon when she last remembered setting down in the garden. A warm caress brushed her cheekbone, and she unconsciously pressed into the touch.

“Hey, there, sleeping beauty,” Ichigo murmured, the normal levity absent from his soft words. Rukia turned her gaze to her lover, who had settled himself by her pillow.

“Ichigo,” her brows furrowed. Wasn’t she the one going to him this time? “What are you doing here?”

“You were late. I got worried.” He brushed his hand through her hair, soothing and affectionate.

“Sap.”

“Always,” he allowed and helped her when she moved to sit upright. “How are you feeling?”

She dropped her face into her hands. “Like a menos sat on my head. What happened?”

“You fainted,” her eyes shot to her brother as he entered the room, concern barely visible under his scowl. “Reiatsu depletion. I had the family doctors tend to you before Kurosaki arrived.” His already dour expression turned stormy. “I had assumed, considering the circumstances, that the two of you would have taken more precautions. All things considered, this is probably the most irresponsible the two of you have ever been.”

Rukia glanced at Ichigo and quickly surmised that this wasn’t the first time he had heard this lecture. “Ichigo, what is he saying?” Before he could respond, Byakuya continued.

“Your reiatsu is being redirected to accommodate the new life growing within you, Rukia.” His expression softened minutely. “You are with child.”

She gaped at the two men in disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

“Sometimes contraception fails,” Ichigo reminded her. _Ever the doctor’s son_ , she thought. He rubbed a firm hand down her back. “Rukia, we need to think about this. The law…” he trailed off with a grimace. “They won’t let this go.”

“They will force you to terminate the child,” her brother pressed. Ichigo flinched at the words, and Rukia wanted to recoil at the thought as well. Her hand moved to her abdomen. “And before you even think of it, I will not allow you to follow in the manner of Shiba Isshin and disappear into the Living World. They will know, and they will find you.”

She stared down to where her palm pressed against her yukata. Beneath it, _inside_ her, a life was beginning, blossoming into being. Not even born yet and already this child faced so much danger.

Her child. _Their_ child. She turned further into Ichigo, and he pulled her closer to wrap an arm around her waist and cover her hand with his.

“So just make it so it’s not that idiot’s kid.” All three jumped at the new voice, and moved to stare at the man in the hallway. Renji pushed some papers into a shocked Byakuya’s arms. “These need your signature.”

His captain shook off his surprise and fixed him with an icy glare. “It’s impolite to spy.”

“It’s also impolite to lie, Captain.” He addressed Byakuya, but the couple knew the stinging statement was also directed at them. “Instead of worrying about propriety, let’s worry about getting everyone out of this mess.”

“What’s your idea then?” Ichigo prompted, more than a little antsy. Rukia fisted her free hand in the back of his kosode.

Renji crossed his arms. “Like I said, we just have to make it so that you’re not the father. There’s no issue if it’s a shinigami’s kid.”

“We can’t just say it’s someone else’s child, Renji,” Rukia said with a frown. “Everyone knows Ichigo and I were together; no one in their right mind would believe it if I said I was suddenly pregnant,” her stomach twisted at the word, “with some unknown shinigami.”

“They would if someone stepped forward as, what do they call it? Your rebound?”

Ichigo caught on to his meaning and sat up straighter. “Renji, you can’t be suggesting–”

“Shut up. You two are my best friends; if I can’t do this for you than I am not worth the title.” He shook his head, red ponytail whipping behind him in agitation. “After everything, you deserve this happiness more than anyone. I’d fight to keep it that way if I could, but I don’t think it would help any. So let me do this.”

Byakuya hummed. “If you took responsibility, there would be nothing the Central 46 could do. It is against their law to interfere with the proceedings of a noble family unless they have irrefutable evidence indicating wrongdoing.” He met Rukia’s concerned gaze. “As suspicious as they would be, they wouldn’t be able to touch you.”

Ichigo squeezed her hand, and she met his expectant look. “Ichigo?”

“Whatever it takes,” he murmured and brushed his lips against her brow. In the background, she could make out Renji and her brother hashing out the details of the ruse, making plans to add Renji to the family register and reorganize her workload to accommodate her lower energy, but she focused on the sensation of her lover’s arms around her and the thumping beat she could feel against his chest. 

For the first time since she awoke, Rukia felt hope bloom in her heart.

* * *

“Twins?” To say that Rukia was taken aback would be an understatement.

Kiyone nodded her head and looked back to the medical charts she held in her hands. “That’s what it looks like from the scans.”

Rukia felt like her heart was about to burst. Despite the hardships she and Ichigo were facing, they were still happy to be having a child. But two? She covered her mouth, almost as if her joy would escape if she hadn’t. Two boys? Two girls? One of each? What would Ichigo want? She already knew the answer to that question; when she’d asked him before what he wanted the baby to be, he had simply kissed her head. _Happy,_ he had said, _I want our child to be happy._

She looked back to Kiyone. Despite Rukia’s joyful reaction, her normally exuberant friend seemed somber as she looked down at her information. Suddenly, Rukia’s heart felt less like it was about to burst and more like a stone that had dropped to the pit of her stomach. “Kiyone,” she began slowly, and the other vice captain’s head jerked up. “Why didn’t the Kuchiki family physicians detect twins?”

Kiyone took a deep breath. “The scans also show a lower-than-normal reiatsu signature from one of the fetuses.”

Rukia could swear that her heart stopped entirely. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you may not be able to carry both fetuses to term, and, even if you did, one of them might not have a high enough reiatsu to sustain life here in Soul Society,” Kiyone announced. As clinical as she was trying to be, tears started gathering in the corners of her eyes, and she clenched her clipboard with whitened knuckles. “I’m so sorry, Rukia-san.”

Rukia felt like the air in the room had suddenly vanished. A hand gripped the front of her uniform over her stomach, and she gasped in an unsteady breath. “And there’s nothing…? Kiyone?” The other woman shook her head. “I see,” Rukia heard herself absently. “Thank you. I think I need a moment before I head home.”

“Of course,” Kiyone rushed to say, “take as much time as you need!” She turned to scurry out of the room, but she stopped when she put her hand on the door. “Rukia-san, I just have one question.” She met Rukia’s gaze. “This information, combined with the developmental rate of the fetuses…” she bit her lip, hesitant and unsure as to how to word her question carefully enough. “Vice Captain Abarai isn’t the father, is he?”

Rukia stared back before giving her head a single, almost imperceptible shake. _No._

“I see,” Kiyone managed, but the words still came out choked. “Please, extend my condolences to Kurosaki-san, as well.” She bowed and missed Rukia covering her mouth with her hand again. “No one will hear it from me. This packet here covers what to expect and how to take care of yourself for multiple births.” She set the folder on the counter. “Take as much time as you need,” she repeated and finally escaped from the room, snapping the door shut behind her.

Rukia was alone, but, as the walls of the examination room seemed to close in around her and the sharp smell of antiseptic stung her nose, she knew she wanted to be anywhere but the Fourth Division. Gathering the folder and her confidence, she strode into the hallway and walked with purpose, hoping that anyone that would want to talk to her would be discouraged.

At the moment, she wasn’t certain she would not just dissolve into tears if anyone stopped her.

She continued that way the entire distance to the manor, and she marched straight into her brother’s private gardens, ignoring her brother himself on her mission. When she reached the back where the walls of the estate met under the shade of a large tree, she collapsed, and the mask shattered with the hiccupping sobs bubbling up her throat. She leaned back against the trunk, gasping. Rukia didn’t care to acknowledge Byakuya’s approach, and she only cried harder when she felt his hands clasp her shoulders.

“Rukia, you need to breathe.” His steady voice did nothing to calm her, though she did press into the warm of his palms. “Come now, breathe and control your reiatsu. You’re putting a great deal of stress on this old tree.” She looked down, noticing the ice spreading over the roots and frost dusting the bark, and inhaled like he had instructed. “Good. That’s good. Again, Rukia.” She took another shaky breath. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. “The appointment didn’t go well.” It wasn’t a question.

“Get Ichigo. Nii-sama, please, _go get him_ ,” she begged, wrapping her arms across her waist. She pulled her knees into her chest. Byakuya released her shoulders, and she folded in on herself more, folded around her children. She gave him one more pleading look, and he was off, undoubtedly using the family senkaimon to pull Ichigo from the Living World. Rukia dropped her forehead to her knees and tried to ignore the folder where it had been thrown to the ground.

* * *

“If our kid can’t survive here, it can survive in the Living World. I’m sure Urahara could help provide a gigai, and at the clinic we have all we need to supply false birth records.”

“It’s not as simple as that, Ichigo! Don’t you see? If I have two children, and one disappears, and then all of a sudden you have a kid? We’ll be right back where we started, under suspicion and with both of our children in danger!”

“What are you saying, Rukia?”

“We have to end this.”

“It hasn’t come to that.”

“Anything that could possibly tie you to these children puts all of us at risk! I can’t lose them, and I can’t lose you!”

“…”

“It’s the only way for all of us to stay safe.”

“Even if we can never see each other after?”

“As long as you two are alive, I’ll be happy. I’ll have to be.”

“Dammit! Why can’t we get a break?!”

“Ichigo…”

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

“It won’t be forever. We’ll figure something out.”

“…fool.”

* * *

"Ichigo," Rukia called out, softer than he had ever heard her. He crossed the room, bending low to press a firm kiss to her forehead.  
  
"You did so well, Rukia. You’re amazing, you know that?" he murmured gently and brushed sticky bangs away from her face. She watched him with tears in her eyes.  
  
"Ichigo," her voice trembled. He wanted to close his eyes against what he knew was coming, but he couldn’t bear to look away. He had to remember everything about this moment, with Rukia and their children, together as the family that they would never be. "This is it, isn't it?" The tears streaked down her cheeks, as pretty as pearls and, to him, ugly as sin.  
  
He laid next to her and carefully tucked her into his side. "Rukia," he murmured into her hair, if only to be able to say the name. "Rukia." She gripped the front of his robes and soaked the cotton as she pressed her face into his chest, shaking silently. His arms around her, he breathed in her scent and choked back his own cries.

_This wasn't fair._  
  
After a while, soft whimpers started up from one of the bassinets, and he looked down at his lover. "Can I?" She nodded quickly and pushed off him, wiping her wet cheeks with a palm. He turned to the baby and scooped her into his arms. He gazed down at his daughter, pink and warm in his grasp.  
  
His daughter who he would soon have to leave.  
  
"Hey, there, baby girl. You're just fine, aren't you?" He crooned down to her and watched her dark eyes open to him. _Ah_ , he thought. _Her mother's eyes_. "Hard not to be fine when you're the most beautiful girl in three realms." He heard Rukia move next to him, but he didn't dare look away from the life in his hands. She pressed herself along his back, and her hand joined his in brushing through the soft down of her bright hair. "That'll be a dead giveaway," he murmured back to her.  
  
"Nothing red dye can't hide," she replied quietly. Ichigo kissed the crown of his daughter's head. "Ichika."  
  
"Hm?" Ichigo turned fully to her, bringing up a hand to cup her cheek. She leaned into it with a watery smile.  
  
"I'm naming her Ichika. So I'm reminded that I have a piece of you with me, here."  
  
He searched her expression for a moment, then ducked forward and pulled her into a kiss, memorizing the plush of her lips and her bittersweet taste. When they broke away, he knocked his forehead lightly into hers. _This is it,_ she had asked, _isn’t it?_ The reality of it all hit him like a freight train, nearly driving the breath from his lungs. "I love you. I love you, _so much_."  
  
She echoed his words as she brought her hands to cup the back of his head, tangling her fingers in that ridiculous hair of his. "Take care of him, won't you? He's so small..."  
  
"With my life," he swore, "with my soul." He pressed another kiss to her lips. He closed his eyes against the sting of his tears. "I love you." A kiss to Ichika's forehead. "I love you." Of all the things he wanted to tell Rukia, of all the things he wanted her to remember, those were the only words could pass his lips without him choking.  
  
Rukia let him hold Ichika for a moment longer before she slid her arms through his and lifted their daughter out of his grasp. "It's about time," she whispered. It sounded like a thunderclap. "He needs to get to the living world."  
  
Ichigo stood from the mattress to collect their son, still sleeping in his blankets and oblivious to the world around him. She had been right – already his breathing seemed strained, as if he had a weight on his chest. Settling him in the crook of his arm, Ichigo turned back to the bed. "Do you...?"  
  
Rukia shook her head sharply and drew a ragged breath. "If I do," she admitted, "I'll never let him go."  
  
Ichigo took one more look. His family, broken before it even started. He darted down to leave one last, chaste kiss to his lover's lips, and pulled himself out of the room without looking back. Shutting the door behind him, he locked eyes with the man who had waited outside.  
  
Renji took two easy strides forward and drew his friend firmly into his arms. Ichigo leaned his tear-stained face into his shoulder and sobbed bitterly. Feeling his son move in his arms, he drew away, clasping his friend around the back of his neck. "You'll take care of my girls." At this point, he knew it was more fact than question, but he still felt relief when the older man nodded solemnly. "Thank you," he murmured shakily. He felt more tears roll down his cheek. "Thank you, Renji."  
  
"Of course." The redhead clapped him on the back. "Now get back to yours and take care of your boy." Ichigo nodded and looked down at his son. He drew the blanket around his face a little higher – poor protection from the whipping wind, but protection nonetheless – and launched into a shunpo that took them straight to the doors of the Kuchiki’s private senkaimon.

Byakuya had opened the gate for them but held up a hand to stall Ichigo’s departure. With a step he was in front of Ichigo, and he stared down at his nephew’s soft face. “I would have given anything that this would have been different.” Ichigo swallowed, not quite sure how to respond. “Any other world and I would be congratulating you and Rukia.” He ran a knuckle over the infant’s soft cheek. “Any other world and you would have been a welcomed brother-in-law.”

Ichigo could see the world clearly, too. He had dreamed of it, wished for it, prayed to who-knew-what for it, but he couldn’t reach it. “I would have liked that,” Ichigo managed around his tight throat.

The nobleman merely gave a curt nod and stepped aside. “I’ll be checking in. Now, _go_.”

Ichigo had not needed to be told twice.  
  
As he touched down in front of the clinic, the door slid open, and his own father stepped out. Isshin took in his son’s appearance before moving his attention down to the bundle in Ichigo’s arms. "This is him, then?" Ichigo nodded, and Isshin pushed back the blanket to look at his grandson for the first time. "Well, now," he said softly and brushed the small slope of the baby’s nose, "it looks like my third daughter out-did herself, this time."

Ichigo gave a noise half-way between a laugh and a cry. Isshin opened his arms, and his son fell into his shoulder. His shuddering sobs shook his frame, and Isshin pressed his eyes closed. _Oh, my boy_ , the new grandfather thought, _you never deserved this_.

* * *

Rukia stared out the window and watched the sun rise over the stark buildings of the Seireitei. Her daughter slept quietly next to her, and, as hard as she tried, Rukia couldn’t bring herself to take her hand off of her. The feeling of the small chest rising and falling beneath her touch seemed like the only thing that kept her grounded when all she wanted to do was fly apart at the seams.

The door opened quietly behind her, but she kept her eyes on the orange hues dancing across the sky. She knew who the visitor was, anyway; her brother’s calming reiatsu washed over her like warm water and eased the tightness between her shoulders, at the base of her spine.

“You saw them off?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, coming to a stop by the foot of bed. “They crossed through safely.”

“Thank you.”

Byakuya quietly sighed when she refused to glance his way. “And your daughter?”

“Perfect,” she whispered. “They’re both perfect.”

The captain moved closer to ever-so-gently take a seat next to his niece. The baby didn’t so much as stir. “I know,” he ventured cautiously, “how difficult it is to be separated from someone you love.”

His words finally got her attention, and she turned to meet his gaze. Her eyes were red, but dry; she had run out of angry tears long before, the salty trails down her cheeks proof of that fact. “Nii-sama…” she began, but seemed to lose her words.

“Unlike me, however,” he continued, and placed a comforting hand on her knee, “the person you love still lives. The _people_ you lost haven’t been taken from you forever. There’s always the… hope that you’ll be together one day.”

_One day_.

Rukia felt the words like an arrow through her chest. She could almost see the soft moonlight, taste his lips on hers like a vow.

She reached her free hand up to finger her dark hair where it brushed her chin.

“Not a hope. It’s a promise.”

_One day_.

**Author's Note:**

> ❤️


End file.
